


i wanna tattoo you on me (just look what you created)

by gothfob



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Banter, Blow Jobs, Flirting, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Idiots in Love, Kissing, M/M, Sasstrick, Srar era, and SMUT, and a little emo stuff, and love confessions, and then theres ice cream, and watch the sunset, duh - Freeform, dumb fob lyric references, oh also pete gets a tattoo, pete and patrick go to the santa monica pier, pete is kinda creepy, theres a joe mention, whats new tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-10-17 10:36:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20619620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gothfob/pseuds/gothfob
Summary: Even though summer is nearly over, it’s sweltering outside. It’s the last heat wave before the air turns crisp and cold with the change of seasons. Pete is used to harsh winters, but California will never get cold the way Chicago does. It’s a beautiful place, but it will never be the same as where he grew up.Pete is walking down the Santa Monica pier with Patrick at his side. After getting back from tour, Pete thought it would be nice. Patrick said he had never been here before, and Pete couldn’t believe it, couldn’t resist offering to take him.They’re walking close together, shoulders brushing. Pete desperately wants to hold Patrick’s hand, but he has a feeling he’d get punched if he tried. They’re also both sweating profusely, but Pete wants to touch Patrick in any way he can, no matter how sweaty he is.Or the one where they're stupidly in love with each other and have an ice cream date. And then Pete gets a tattoo.





	i wanna tattoo you on me (just look what you created)

Even though summer is nearly over, it’s sweltering outside. It’s the last heat wave before the air turns crisp and cold with the change of seasons. Pete is used to harsh winters, but California will never get cold the way Chicago does. It’s a beautiful place, but it will never be the same as where he grew up.

Pete is walking down the Santa Monica pier with Patrick at his side. After getting back from tour, Pete thought it would be nice. Patrick said he had never been here before, and Pete couldn’t believe it, couldn’t resist offering to take him. 

They’re walking close together, shoulders brushing. Pete desperately wants to hold Patrick’s hand, but he has a feeling he’d get punched if he tried. They’re also both sweating profusely, but Pete wants to touch Patrick in any way he can, no matter how sweaty he is.

It feels dangerous to even admit these things to himself. But from the moment he met Patrick his thoughts have run rampant. They pour out of him like he’s bleeding, writing words about Patrick’s laugh, Patrick’s smile, Patrick’s voice, in his own blood and tears.

Songs about hearts, lies, and (best) friends. Pete has tunnel vision when it comes to Patrick. Sometimes, he feels like that makes him a little obsessive and crazy. But he really can’t help it.

Pete has spent a long time declaring his love for Patrick, on stage, on pages upon pages of journals, on blog posts, at industry parties, to anyone who will listen. He’s tried so hard to keep his feelings buried, keep them a secret by making it all into one big joke. A gimmick, if you will.

If he is always talking about how in love he is with Patrick, making sexual innuendos at him, kissing his neck on stage, then he thinks maybe Patrick won’t take it so seriously. That he’ll believe that Pete is a fraud like everyone else.

The problem is: Pete is not at all subtle. Anyone who really knows him can see right through him. Patrick is the person who knows him best in this whole entire world. He’s Pete’s other half. But God, is he fucking oblivious to everything. 

This means Pete has been living a horribly, thinly veiled lie for the last twelve years. It’s a painful realization, how many people he’s tried to fall in love with over the years to get over Patrick. It never works. He’s stopped trying, since the band got back together. He’s also made an embarassing amount of jokes about reunion sex.

Pete’s thoughts are interrupted when they reach the end of the pier, where other people are holding hands and taking pictures. 

“The sun is setting.” Patrick says. Pete hadn’t noticed, he’s been too busy staring at Patrick’s mouth. Pete drags his eyes away and focuses on the water. The way the waves move toward the skyline.

The sunset reflects onto the water, pinks, oranges, and purples all blending with blue. It’s beautiful. If Pete were in a movie, this would be romantic. He would live happily ever after with Patrick. 

“It’s breathtaking.” Pete states, turning his head to look back at Patrick. 

“Yeah. It’s much prettier here than I thought it would be. I guess I didn’t understand the hype about this place before. But now I do.” Patrick says, sounding awed. Pete smiles at him, big and lopsided. 

“I’m glad you like it.” Pete replies, looking out at the sky again. They stand there in silence for a while, arms touching. Once it’s nearly dark, they turn back and start walking towards the car. 

“My shirt is sticking to my skin.” Patrick complains, pulling the hem away from his stomach, trying to let the air circulate. Not that it’s much use when the air itself is hot and sticky. 

“No shit. You’re the one who doesn’t wanna take off your flannel and your jacket when it’s ninety degrees outside.” Pete quips. Patrick never listens to him about this, he’s always wearing layers. 

Pete is pretty sure it’s part of Patrick being insecure, which makes him sad. Patrick is the best, most beautiful person Pete has ever met. He wishes Patrick could see it.

Even when Patrick was heavier, Pete was hopelessly in love with everything about him. He doesn’t think about what Patrick weighs much. He’s just Patrick. Pretty and talented and oh so sweet. 

Patrick grumbles at him under his breath as they get in the car. Pete turns the key and starts it up, and then he fiddles with the AC until it’s on full blast. 

Patrick turns the radio up a little and bobs his head to the music, drums along to the beat with his fingers on his thigh. Pete smiles at him in his peripheral vision, but tries to keep his eyes on the road. A few minutes later, Pete is struck by a brilliant idea. He says this out loud.

“Oh no.” Patrick deadpans flatly. He’s used to Pete’s specific brand of bullshit by now. 

“It’s not anything _ weird. _” Pete says, defensively. 

“Right,” Patrick laughs. “It’s not like everything you do is weird.” Patrick retorts.

“I resent that. I can have normal ideas, sometimes.” Pete sighs. “Anyways, my idea is that we should get ice cream. Right now.”

Patrick perks up at this.

“I take back everything I just said. You have the best ideas all the time. You know another great idea?” Patrick says this emphatically, his eyes getting huge and his lower lip sticking out.

Pete is looking at him at this exact moment, because they’re stopped at a red light.

“What is it?” Pete asks, amused. 

“You paying for our ice cream.” Patrick bats his eyelashes coquettishly. Pete stares at him for a second, but he’s jolted out of it by someone honking at him to go. The light is green. Fuck.

Pete grips the steering wheel tightly and accelerates. _ Like a date? _ Pete’s brain is supplying, completely unhelpful. Patrick wants Pete to pay for it, as if this is a date. Pete’s heart is pounding double time, just at the inclination.

Patrick couldn’t possibly mean it in that way. There’s nothing to indicate anything like that. Pete is reading too far into it. God, he’s so desperate for Patrick to want him back he’s starting to imagine things. 

“Yeah, I think I can manage that.” Pete replies, his voice trembling. He can see Patrick make a concerned face at him out of the corner of his eye. 

There’s silence between them aside from the radio, until Pete is parking the car in front of one of his favorite ice cream places. He shuts the car off and gets out. He locks the doors and meets Patrick on the other side.

They walk into the shop together, standing in line behind a woman and her two little boys. Pete doesn’t mind the waiting. It gives him time to look at the flavors, even though he’s going to get the same thing he always gets. He’s a creature of habit. 

They finally make it up to the counter and Pete tells the girl behind the counter what he wants. A mint chocolate chip ice cream cone. It’s simple, but it’s a classic. 

She nods and grabs a waffle cone, filling it up generously. She hands it to Pete and turns to look at Patrick expectantly.

“I’ll take a cone of cotton candy ice cream with rainbow sprinkles.” Patrick says. She gets to work and hands him his cone a minute later, and then she gives Pete their total. Pete pays for their treats, and then they decide to sit down at a table by the window.

The place is pretty empty, and the woman behind the counter didn’t seem to recognize them, so they’re safe to stay here and just talk. 

Pete eats his ice cream fast, shoving it in his mouth at record breaking speed. What can he say? He really loves ice cream. Patrick is more leisurely, takes his time.

Pete can’t stop staring at his lips again. Or his tongue. He keeps licking the ice cream in broad stripes. It’s making Pete’s pants feel tighter than usual. 

He decides suddenly that this was a horrible idea. It’s torture for his poor dirty mind. Why does an ice cream cone have to be vaguely phallic looking? 

It’s at this moment Patrick decides to bite his ice cream, making Pete grimace. 

“Why the hell do you do that to your poor teeth?” Pete blurts out. He may have to reevaluate being friends with Patrick. He’s pretty sure only psychopaths bite their ice cream. 

“It’s a power move. I’m showing it who’s boss.” Patrick replies, looking at Pete with a straight face for a few seconds before he starts laughing, his shoulders shaking. Pete laughs along with him. He thinks maybe his ridiculousness is rubbing off on Patrick.

Patrick finishes his ice cream and then Pete offers to let Patrick crash at his house in LA. Patrick agrees, if a little reluctantly. Patrick will probably head back to Chicago in a few days, always eager to see his parents and his own house.

Patrick has an apartment in LA, but he doesn’t stay there very often. He doesn’t like it here as much as Pete does, not enough to make a commitment that’s more than a month to month lease. 

Pete theoretically could have offered to drop Patrick off at his own place instead, but he’s not going to lie. Pete is greedy for time with Patrick, especially outside of touring. But he knows after they’ve been stuck together on the bus and in hotels that Patrick usually wants time and space away from him. 

This time seems to be different. Pete doesn’t want to get his hopes up, but he thinks maybe it’s because Patrick feels guilty about the hiatus. Or maybe he missed Pete as much as Pete missed him. 

Pete offers to let Patrick sleep in his room, happy to take the couch or the guest bedroom. He’s just being hospitable, he swears. He definitely isn’t excited by the prospect of his sheets smelling like Patrick. Not at all. That would be weird.

Besides, he knows his bed is much more comfortable than the guest bed. He just wants Patrick to be comfortable. He has no other motives. Really. 

Pete eventually gets Patrick to agree to sleep in his room, but it takes several minutes of coaxing. Pete ends up in the guest bedroom, under the comforter and tossing and turning. 

He can’t sleep well with Patrick in the next room. His mind is racing with possibilities, with wondering what Patrick is doing. Is he sleeping? Is he thinking of melodies to songs that haven’t been written yet? Is he thinking about Pete too? 

Pete forces himself to take some deep breaths, just like his therapist told him to do. He closes his eyes and forces himself to relax. He falls into a restless sleep, and wakes up around four in the morning because of a nightmare.

He’s coated in sweat, alone and terrified. His chest is heaving, his brain still going over the dream in his head. 

Pete is used to this happening by now. But that doesn’t make it any less scary. And he doesn’t have to be alone if he doesn’t want to be. Not tonight. Not any night, really. Patrick is always there. Even if it’s just over the phone sometimes. Pete has access to the real thing tonight. 

He doesn’t hesitate, makes his way out of bed on shaky feet and walks into the other room, the one covered in his own clothes and books and a custom bass in the corner. 

He tiptoes to his bed carefully, trying to be considerate to not wake Patrick up. It doesn’t work. Patrick is a heavy sleeper, but he seems to have some weird sense where he knows when Pete is lurking, knows when Pete needs him. 

Patrick wakes up as soon as Pete pulls back the covers. Patrick blinks at him in the dark for a moment, yawning and rubbing his eyes.

He sits up a little to lean over to the side table and flick on the light. He turns back to Pete, his hair rumpled, and gives him a gentle smile.

“What are you doing up so late?” Patrick asks. It’s a rhetorical question, really. Patrick knows the routine at this point. He knows why Pete is here. 

“Nightmares again. I didn’t wanna be alone in the dark.” Pete murmurs, far more raw and forthcoming than he meant to be. He scoots closer to Patrick and pulls the blankets up to his chin. 

“That’s okay. You’re okay.” Patrick whispers, wrapping his arms around Pete and rubbing his back, petting his hair in soothing strokes. Pete is still shaking, feeling like an open wound. 

“Why did you decide to come back?” Pete asks, the room suddenly filled with tension. He doesn’t clarify; Patrick knows exactly what he’s talking about. Patrick doesn’t answer right away. He keeps one hand tangled in Pete’s hair, the other traces his cheekbone.

“I can’t imagine my life without you. I realized I made a mistake, Pete. I missed you. I love you.” Patrick says it so sincerely it makes Pete’s eyes well up. 

“I love you, too. I missed you to death. Please, never leave me again.” Pete pleads. He’s crying for real now, the tear tracks running down his face. Patrick wipes them away. 

“I won’t. I couldn’t. You made me into someone who I never realized I could be. You taught me so much about myself. You saw something in me when no one else did. You gave me a crazy, amazing life. I can never thank you enough for that. And I want this life for as long as I can possibly have it.” Patrick admits.

Pete is floored by the words, utterly speechless for a moment. 

“You can keep it. We can do this for eternity. I promise, we can stay young forever.” Pete says, no matter how cheesy it is to quote his own lyrics. He means them. 

Patrick laughs, sounding a little choked up himself.

“Yeah. I believe you. There’s nothing I’ve ever wanted more than this. More than you.” Patrick says, breathless with the confession.

Pete feels like his heart stops. He never thought Patrick would say those words to him. He never thought he’d be worthy of Patrick’s love or affection. Not like this. Not in the way he so desperately craved for years. 

“Oh, thank god. I thought being in love with you was hopeless. I thought you’d never love me back. Not like I love you.” Pete exhales in relief. His smile feels as if it may split his face in half. 

“I’ve always loved you, Pete. More than I’ve ever loved anyone before. It scares me a little. I think I never told you because I was afraid you’d reject me, or that we’d ruin the band.” Patrick huffs, amused. 

“It seems we ruined the band _ without _confessing our feelings. Fuck, Joe was right, we’re idiots!” Pete groans. Patrick nods, giggling. “Also, for the record, I would never reject you. You’re like, my dream boy. You’re perfect.” Pete says fiercely. Patrick blushes, his cheeks rosy and adorable. 

Pete can’t hold back any more, he kisses Patrick, soft and sweet. He tastes like cotton candy.

It’s even more glorious than he imagined it would be. He falls asleep with his head on Patrick’s chest, listening to his fluttering heartbeat. 

xxx

The next morning, Pete wakes up and thinks it must have all been a fever dream. He panics, thinking maybe Patrick has already left and he isn’t coming back again.

He sits up quickly and turns his head to look at the other side of the bed. Patrick is laying next to him, with his chin in his palm and a smirk on his face.

“Did you forget I was here?” Patrick asks, his voice playful. Pete reaches out and runs his fingers over Patrick’s collarbones, making sure he’s real. 

“Last night-” Pete stutters, feeling like his mouth is full of cotton. 

“Wasn’t a dream.” Patrick says it as if he can read Pete’s mind, his smile getting wider. It wouldn’t surprise Pete if that were true. 

Pete stares at him for a second, owlishly. Once that revelation has sunk in, he lunges at Patrick. 

Patrick falls flat on his back, and Pete straddles his waist and kisses him again. It’s even better than the one last night, because there’s heat behind it. Intention. 

Patrick pulls back to mumble,

“We should probably brush our teeth.” Pete scoffs into Patrick’s mouth.

“I don’t give a shit. I’d kiss you forever, even with morning breath.” Patrick’s protests are lost to their mouths being tangled together.

Pete slides down Patrick’s body until he’s between his legs. 

“I’m gonna blow you now, ‘kay?” Pete says, syrupy sweet. His hands are greedy, resting on the waistband of Patrick’s boxers and pulling down slowly, teasing. 

Patrick nods vigorously, and Pete laughs at that, his breath washing over Patrick’s crotch. Pete tosses Patrick’s boxers onto the floor. He lets Patrick keep his shirt on, because he knows that’s a point of contention. 

Pete strokes Patrick’s dick, feeling it fatten up in his fist. It’s the most erotic moment in his life to date. 

Pete leans down further, and finally wraps his lips around the tip of Patrick’s cock. It’s salty, wet with pre-come. It’s Pete’s new favorite thing, he can already tell he’s going to be addicted to the way Patrick tastes.

Pete slides further down, taking more of Patrick’s dick into his mouth. It’s a heavy weight on his tongue, stretching his lips wide. 

Patrick buries his hands in Pete’s hair and pulls. Pete moans around his length, his eyes rolling back in his head at the sensation.

Pete bobs his head faster, desperate to make Patrick come. 

“Fuck, yeah.” Patrick whimpers, thrusting his hips and pushing Pete down. It’s not super forceful, more erratic and desperate for release than anything else.

Pete having this effect on Patrick is driving him wild, he can’t help but start humping the mattress a little. 

Patrick keeps fucking his face, and Pete’s grateful that Patrick comes before him. Otherwise, that would be pretty embarrassing. 

Though Pete can’t see Patrick’s face, he can feel spurt after spurt of come go down his throat. He also hears the noises Patrick makes, the way he sings with it. Patrick growls a lot during sex, too. It was always one of his favorite things that Patrick did on stage. In this context, it is so much hotter. 

Patrick shakes with the aftershocks of his orgasm, but he lets go of Pete’s head so he can pull back for air. Pete swallows and smirks up at Patrick’s flushed, sated face. 

Pete crawls back up Patrick’s body so he can kiss him once more. Pete knows that Patrick can taste himself on Pete’s tongue, and that makes it even more obscene. Patrick reaches down between them and shoves Pete’s briefs down his thighs until he can grab his dick. 

Patrick’s other hand clutches the small of Pete’s back, and he starts kissing Pete’s neck instead. Pete throws his head back to give him more access and thrusts into Patrick’s fist. 

Patrick sucks a mark into Pete’s neck, and Pete shivers at the idea of pressing down on the bruise later and looking at it in the mirror. 

Pete is already so riled up, it doesn’t take much to get him off.

Patrick turns his head until he’s biting at Pete’s earlobe. 

“That’s it, baby. Are you gonna come for me? I’d really like that,” Patrick purrs. “Next time I’ll let you come in my mouth.” 

Pete whines, high in the back of his throat. Patrick’s voice has always been his ultimate weakness. He comes hard, his dick shooting pearlescent streaks between their bellies and covering Patrick’s hand. 

He rolls off of Patrick slowly, and then he drapes his arm over him in a cuddly sort of way, even though there’s a sticky mess between them now. 

“That was fucking incredible. I can’t believe I thought you were straight.” Pete chuckles, out of breath and covered in sweat and jizz.

“Me? _ Straight? _” Patrick cackles, slapping his thigh. Pete is helplessly endeared. “That’s genuinely the funniest thing I’ve ever heard in my life.” Patrick grins, wiping the tears out of his eyes from laughing so hard. 

“To be fair, I’ve never seen you date a guy before. And I didn’t know you were in love with me.” Pete defends himself half-heartedly. 

“I didn’t know you were in love with me either, but I never thought you were straight.” Patrick rolls his eyes. 

“It’s not like I kept it a secret or anything.” Pete grumbles, but he can’t be that grumpy when he just got a fantastic orgasm from Patrick Stump. He is very multi-talented, in Pete’s opinion. 

“You’re so silly.” Patrick looks at him fondly, his facial expression oozing with tenderness. Pete smiles back at him. “I’m gonna get a wash cloth to clean us up. Don’t stare at my ass.” Pete totally stares at his ass until it’s out of sight. 

xxx

A few weeks later, Pete has his first tattoo appointment in a while. Pete and his artist know each other very well, so he felt comfortable enough to change up his original idea to something else. Pete does some stupid, crazy things when he’s in love. This is absolutely one of them. 

Pete’s artist comes to greet him with a grin, and he shows him the sketches he’s done of the design. 

“Definitely this one.” Pete nods, pointing at the sketch he likes best. His artist agrees, and he leads him back to the chair. 

The ache of the needle going into his skin is a very familiar one. The pain is like an old friend. It grounds him, makes him feel good and warm. It makes him feel alive.

The tattoo is a small one, so it doesn’t take long to complete. Once it’s done, his artist cleans it off for him and wraps it in plastic. 

Pete gets home about an hour later, and Patrick is sitting in the kitchen on his laptop. Pete sits down across from him and puts his feet up on the table, one leg crossed over the other. The ink on his ankle is visible, although obstructed by the plastic wrap. 

Patrick turns to glare at him, to reprimand him for putting his bare feet on the table, and then he looks down and sees what Pete did while he was out. He wanted it to be a surprise, after all.

“What is that?” Patrick asks, deathly calm. 

“A tattoo.” Pete says, simply. He’s dragging the moment out for his own pleasure in riling Patrick up. 

“Of what? It looks a little wonky with the plastic still on it.” Patrick gets out. Pete carefully takes the plastic off and balls it into his fist. 

Patrick looks at his ankle and gasps. 

“Do you like it?” Pete asks, sheepishly. Patrick grabs onto his ankle and traces the letters.

“You got my name tattooed on you. Forever. Why the fuck would you do that?” Patrick shrieks. Pete sucks in air through his teeth, both at the reaction and the pain Patrick touching it causes. 

“Because I love you. And I wanna be with you forever. I wanna make music with you for the rest of my life. I don’t give a shit what anyone else thinks about it, either.

“I liked the idea of having your name on my skin. Sort of like a branding, but not in a weird, creepy way. Which is why I didn’t tell you before I did it, since you would’ve tried to talk me out of it and-” Pete babbles, until Patrick stops him by slapping a hand over his mouth.

“Stop.” Patrick commands, his eyes big and dark, the blue being consumed by black. Oh. Patrick likes it. He’s getting off on it. Fucking hell. “I get it. Even though I think it’s a crazy thing to do, it’s very you. And I also find the idea of you being marked as mine ridiculously sexy.” Patrick’s hands fall to his lap.

“I was hoping you would say that.” Pete smirks, and then he leans forward and kisses Patrick again, because he can. 

“I love you.” Patrick says, between biting kisses. Pete pulls back, nuzzles against Patrick’s neck.

“I love you too.” Pete murmurs it against Patrick’s skin. He doesn’t know how he got so lucky. This is his fantasy, and he’s gonna live it.

**Author's Note:**

> listen. i played dear future self on repeat and got inspired. idk what this is? its kind of disjointed and all over the place. i wrote it all in one sitting. so like, five hours just now. i hope you like it anyways. i wanted to relate to the video for the song, so i had them eat ice cream. but then i was like, i wanna incorporate the lyrics, so the tattoo part of this fic was put at the end, after the love confessions and porn. it seemed fitting to me. and i tried my best to capture that end of summer feeling. anyways. it's a great fucking song. bop of the century. go stream it. 
> 
> comments and kudos motivate me to write more! xo
> 
> come talk to me on tumblr @gothfob :)
> 
> p.s. patrick’s ice cream order is my own, except i get mine in a dish.


End file.
